Brittany Victorious
by Caesar Augustus Plutarch
Summary: Written in response to a PPMB Iron Chef challenge that asked for Brittany to be in a barroom brawl. Eight years after high school army aviator Brittany finds herself in one with an unexpected consequence.


Brittany Victorious  
_By CAP_

The sun was setting but the air was still stifling. As the locals were fond of saying, 'it ain't the heat, it's the humidity'. CWO2 Brittany Taylor knew that to be a fact. She could feel the sweat forming under her blonde bob as soon as she exited her car. She had spent a lot of time at Fort Rucker, Alabama over the last seven years but the breath stealing humidity was something to which no one truly adjusted.

The _Off Tackle_ was already busy. It was Monday night and in the Deep South during football season, that meant every sports bar in the region was packed. Barks of laughter, loud conversations, and the noise of several televisions sets blaring swirled together to create a tornado of sound that sucked all that stepped inside the bar into its warm vibe. Brittany stopped for a moment when she entered luxuriating in the air conditioning while her eyes adjusted to the new environment. A sharp whistle caught her attention.

"Yo, Buxley, we're over here."

Brittany smiled as headed toward her friends. All of them were fellow helicopter pilots, one of which she gone through flight school with where she picked up the nickname 'Buxley ' after the _Beetle Bailey_ character with whom she shared some common physical attributes.

"Still unpatriotically drinking that foreign piss?" Jefferson Jackson asked as they bumped knuckles in greeting. "Hey, Marie. One St. Peter 's Girl."

Jeff Jack was Brittany's oldest army buddy. They met during warrant officer candidate school. As was common in the service their paths kept crossing: Fort Rucker, Fort Bragg, Iraq. Anyone who saw the name before meeting the man was surprised. Jeff Jack was neither black or from the south. He was a short, pale, and wiry redhead from Oregon.

"Whaddup, Buxley?" LaRhonda Spencer asked. She had her chair tipped against the wall. She was the youngest of the group and the only commissioned officer of the four. Tall, lean, and athletic, she had in her college days at Coastal Florida University played soccer.

"Britt," Elon Taylor quietly said with a brief nod. At thirty-two, he was the eldest at the table. A soldier since he was seventeen, Elon came out of the ranks where he was a 15N, avionics mechanic before his selection for flight training. A bulky, balding, dour Kentuckian, he struck many as menacing especially since his dark eyes that gave the impression of boring into anything he saw. His few friends knew that he was a shy man that harbored ill will toward no one not even the Taliban that had shot him once and tried to shoot him down on far more occasions.

"Hey, everyone," Brittany replied brightly as she sat. She moved her chair around ostensibly to get a better view of the television screen. She tried to give credence to this by giving the set a long look. Jeff Jack and LaRhonda grinned at each other. That she was all but in Elon's lap was not lost on either of them although both Taylors pretended otherwise.

LaRhonda did not know why neither would make the first move. She liked Brittany and knew firsthand that she was one hellava pilot although there was no denying that she was not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Elon was clever as evidented by him recently completing course work for an engineering degree but he treated Brittany with respect that bordered on reverence. Something LaRhonda got from her that few guys had in the past.

"Who's playing tonight?" Brittany asked.

"Dunno," Elon answered looking in question to the others.

"Seattle, baby," Jeff Jack exclaimed. "Seahawks gonna kick some ass. Boo-yah!"

"With Jones, McGuire, and Yates all sidelined, no way," LaRhonda replied. "Hartford'll take 'em."

Jeff Jack put on an exaggerated display of shock. "You expect an expansion team to beat a playoff team from last year, in Seattle yet? I got a portrait of Lincoln that says otherwise, Lieutenant."

LaRhonda chuckled throatily. "Okay, high roller, you're on. Sounds to me like your talking money says it wants to live in my purse. Either of you two want in on the action?"

"I 've seen you play poker too many times to bet against you," Brittany laughed. "Although I think Jeff Jack is right."

Elon merely shook his head.

"The beer that Abe's gonna buy'll taste good," Jeff Jack said.

"Sure will," LaRhonda agreed.

They laughed as they tapped their bottles together.

"I'm surprised at you, hillbilly," Jeff Jack said after he took a swig. "I thought that you knew football. I figured you 'd be all over that bet."

Elon shrugged. "I think that LaRhonda's right. It 'll be a shootout but the Nutmeggers 'O' line is good enough to give Thompson the time he needs. With three starters gone from the secondary, he'll pick them apart."

Jeff Jack snorted. "An ex-arena league QB in his first year in the NFL isn 't picking apart anything."

Elon shrugged. "We'll know in a while."

"Who's this Thompson?" a frowning Brittany asked.

"Hartford 's QB. He lit up the Arena Football League the last two years," LaRhonda explained. "He led his team to the championship last season."

"Big whoop," retorted Jeff Jack. "If he is all that why is he a twenty-seven year old rookie?"

"He took a long route to the NFL," LaRhonda said. "From what I read in SI he was a pretty hot prospect in high school but he flunked out or something."

"Jocks," chuckled Jeff Jack. No one noticed Brittany's frown deepening.

"Hey, I won four letters and graduated cum laude," countered LaRhonda. "Anyway, after he finally got through high school, Thompson went to some junior college in the middle of nowhere Texas where they actually found uranium in the drinking water at one time."

Jeff Jack laughed. "What kind of mutants do they have there?"

"Looking for a girlfriend," asked Elon drolly.

"Radioactive luvin'," quipped Jeff Jack making thrusting motions with his arms.

"From there," the lieutenant continued. "He wound up at some dinkum NAIA school and then bounced from the Arena League 2 to the AFL and finally, this season, the NFL."

"Persistent," said Elon.

"Yeah," Jeff Jack agreed. "But my Hawks are still gonna do it. You all right, Buxley? You're awfully quiet."

"Yeah," she replied. "It's just that I think I knew him in high school. Kevin Thompson, right? From Maryland?"

"That's right," LaRhonda confirmed. "Friend of yours?"

"We dated for most of high school," she answered. "He was the starting quarterback and I was the head cheerleader so we thought that is what we were supposed to do, ya know." Brittany took a long swig of beer. "Pretty stupid reason to date someone, huh?"

"It's pointless to beat yourself up over the past," Elon told her. "We've all done things that we wish that we could take back but that's only because we now have the knowledge and experience gained from those bad decisions, ya hear?"

"Five by five," Brittany said flashing a wide smile.

"Maybe you can score us some free tickets if Hartford ever plays near here," Jeff Jack said hopefully.

"Not likely," Brittany replied. "He took it kinda hard when I broke up with him but I'm glad that he got his wish to play in the NFL. Football is really all he had."

"He can always join the army," quipped LaRhonda getting laughs from her friends.

The game proved to be the high scoring affair that Elon predicted. It went back and forth with neither defense proving effective. By halftime, Seattle had a 31-28 lead.

"Who's round is it?" Jeff Jack asked.

"Mine," Brittany said. "Name your poison."

Jeff Jack and LaRhonda simultaneously held up their empty beer bottles. Brittany held out her hand.

"Keys," she demanded.

"Yes, ma 'am," grumbled Jeff Jack in a purely _pro forma_ manner. The army was hell on DUI. One might not cost him his career but it would get him grounded for a long time.

"LaRhonda?"

"Elon and I came with Jeff Jack."

"Okay, then," Brittany said. "What would you like, Elon?"

"I 'll take a coke."

Brittany scanned the room as she dropped Jeff Jack's keys into her purse. "I don't see any of the waitresses. It'll probably be quicker if I get them myself."

"Quicker than the line in the ladies room at any rate," LaRhonda groaned as she stood.

Brittany slithered through the crowd planting herself at an empty spot at the bar. One of the bartenders spotted her. He held up a finger. "Be right there."

Brittany turned her attention to the television set.

"Now, here's Ivy with a look at the feel-good story of the young season. Kevin Thompson, who has led the expansion Hartford Nutmeggers to a surprising two and one start. His circuitous route to the National Football League has given the dreams of many a former high school football player a boost."

Ivy Tallis, looking casual chic in a skirt and blazer, appeared on the screen. "I caught up with the Hartford QB shortly before the game."

_"Well, Kevin, you did not get to the NFL in the usual fashion. How did you keep yourself focused and motivated during all of those years?"_

Brittany arched an eyebrow in surprise when the camera cut to Kevin. The man on the television bore little resemblance to the always smiling, baby-faced boy she knew in high school. He looked far more muscular. There was a determined set to his jaw but anger burned in his eyes, anger and a look of triumph. A look of someone who had allowed nothing to stand in his way during his climb toward his goal.

_"I had one slip up," _Kevin replied with a hard edge. "_And everyone turned their back on me, even my girlfriend. That hurt, man, but, I said [bleep] it. I'll prove all of you [bleep] wrong. I worked my ass off. So what if I went to some schools no one 's ever heard of? So what if I played indoor football? Here I am. A starting QB in the NFL like I always said I'd be."_

_"You sound confident, cocky even," _Ivy said.

Kevin grinned. _"Like the man said, 'it ain 't bragging if you do it'. I told Mr. Lee, our GM, I gonna make you look like a_ [bleep] _genius for signing me. I 'll tell you right now, Ivy, I don 't give a_ _damn_ _if we're an expansion team, Hartford is gonna be in the playoffs this year." _

"_Is there anything that you would like your naysayers to know? _Ivy asked.

_"This uniform says all that needs to be said," _said Kevin. "_All of the ones who put me down are now coming home from their crappy jobs and sitting in front of their TV 's watching me except maybe my ex-girlfriend. She 's probably dancing around some pole right now."_

"Oh, Kevvie," Brittany said to herself. "Get over it."

The fat man sitting on a stool next to Brittany brayed loudly. "That girl's probably pulling her hair out. Had a goldmine and didn't know it."

After getting a laugh out of his girlfriend, the man drunkenly looked over at Brittany. "Whadda ya think, Jugs? Girl kickin' herself good, right now?"

"Or she might be happy with her life," Brittany said evenly. "You don't know."

"No way," his girlfriend injected. "Like Pete said, could've had it made if she hadn't dumped him. Probably be banging on his door tomorrow begging for another chance."

Brittany gritted her teeth. She did not come to bars very often. She did not like drunks and her figure attracted them in swarms. Come on, she thought. Get your butt down here and take my order so I can get away from these clowns.

Pete slapped his fingers lightly across Brittany's forearm. "Hey, Jugs, what would you do if you were that girl?"

"Don't touch me," Brittany coldly replied. "And my name isn't Jugs."

"Get off your high horse, bitch," the woman snarled. "All he did was ask you a question."

"Forget this," Brittany said. She turned away but the woman lunged around her boyfriend knocking her stool over in the process. Brittany felt the sting of the slap on her cheek but it had little strength behind it. The woman was both drunk and out of shape. Pete grinned foolishly.

"Cat fight," he giggled. "Git her, Lucy."

"No," Brittany said firmly. "There won't be a fight. Now go back to your beer and leave me alone."

Lucy instead took a wild swing at Brittany who easily ducked under it.

"Sit back down, now," Brittany commanded.

Lucy choose to try another punch that came no closer than the first one.

Okay you called the tune, Brittany thought.

Stepping forward, Brittany threw three quick jabs into Lucy's midsection and then shoved her into Pete. Lucy promptly and violently vomited on her boyfriend before sliding to the floor.

"That 's my sister, freakin' furmuncher," shouted the woman that had been sitting next to Lucy. She charged. Brittany was not going to turn the other cheek again. She grabbed her attacker. With a deft twist of her body, Brittany sent the woman flying through the air. Three men dove from their seats as her body landed on their table. The woman 's momentum carried her across the tabletop, tumbling her into a now empty chair. She, the table, and the chair hit the floor in a tangle.

"Bitch!"

Brittany started to turn when she heard the epitaph. She caught the briefest glimpse of a red faced, vomit covered Pete rushing her before Elon dropped him with a chop across the back of his neck. Pete collapsed like an empty sack.

"Everyone freeze!"

A tall broad shouldered man with a crew cut strode resolutely forward. He held a badge aloft in his left hand. There was a bulge along his side underneath his navy blue Auburn University jersey announcing that he was armed.

Elon and Brittany stood stock still. The vanquished trio were not as static but their movements were feeble none of them even attempting to rise from the floor so the cop did not bother repeating himself.

"Is she going to need an ambulance?" he asked the man squatting beside Lucy's sister while his buddies sat the table back.

"No, Steve," he said. "She's going to have some bruises but that 's all."

"Thanks, Chuck," the cop replied. "How come there's never an EMT around when I get hurt."

"Because you 're a rotten bastard," Chuck quipped.

"So why is this rotten bastard's precious off-time out being interrupted?" Steve asked looking over Brittany and the others.

"Bitch jumped us," Lucy said weakly.

"Is that so," the cop asked skeptically.

"Hardly," the bartender said. "Pukerella there and her boyfriend were bugging Blondie who tried to walk away from them only to have Pukerella slap her. Blondie didn't hit her back; just told her to sit down. Idiot took a couple of more weak ass swings instead and Blondie dropped her only to have Ugly Stepsister decide she wanted some of it, too. Then the boyfriend-"

"Yeah, I saw that part, Ned," Steve said. "Charges?"

Ned grimaced. "Not if I don 't have to, Steve. Who needs the hassle?"

"How about you, miss?" the policeman asked Brittany. "I can have them hauled in for assault and battery."

"I rather not," Brittany replied.

Steve grinned guessing the source of her reluctance. "Soldier, eh? Rather not have the CO hear about it, I suppose. Well, can 't say as I blame you. Doesn't matter if you were at fault or not, they got their panties in a wad over this kind of thing when I was in and I doubt if they have changed all that much."

"Thank you," Brittany said.

Steve turned his attention to Elon. "Now why did you jump into the middle of this fracas?"

"He's my fiance," Brittany blurted before he could reply.

The police officer nodded. "Understandable, then. Okay, is anyone with these three floor huggers?"

"He is," Ned said pointing toward a lanky man with shaggy brown hair at the edge of the crowd. "He came in with them."

"Get 'em outta here," Steve commanded.

"Aw, c'mon man," the man whined. "They reek."

"Do I look like I give a rat's ass?" Steve asked rhetorically. "Get a move on."

Chuck helped Lucy's sister up as Pete and Lucy staggered to their feet with some assistance from Shaggy. They glared at Brittany and Elon but left without another word.

"Junie, bring me a mop, will ya," Ned called out. "And a can of air freshener."

"Do we have to leave?" Brittany asked tentatively.

Steve looked over at the bartender.

"No," Ned said. "You didn't start anything."

"They sure finished it though," some wag piped up as people went back to their seats.

"Now keep it cool," Steve said. "The second half's about to start."

"Yes, sir," Brittany replied.

Steve flipped a casual salute before returning to his own table.

"Thanks for having my back, Elon," Brittany said as they walked back to their table orders forgotten.

"No problem," he replied

Elon glanced at the cop to ensure he was out of earshot before asking. "Why did you say I was your fiance?"

"I thought that it would keep you out of trouble," she said. "You know, he'd think that you were coming to the aid of the woman you loved. It worked."

"Yeah, it did," he acknowledged.

They were about to sit down when Brittany stopped. Elon and Jeff Jack looked at her curiously.

"I'm tired of this,"she finally said after several seconds.

"Tired of what?" asked a still standing Elon

Brittany sighed. "Look, I 've been told to my face that if it was me and a gerbil in a maze, bet on the gerbil. I know I'm not a brain but I know some things. One of them is that I love you, Elon and want to marry you."

Elon nodded slowly. He began to speak but shut his mouth instead.

"I've just screwed the pooch, haven't I?" Brittany asked fearfully.

Elon shook his head. "No, you haven't. Give Jeff Jack his keys back. We'll go some where quiet and talk."

LaRhonda returned to their table just after the kickoff. Her beer and a plate of wings were waiting for her. Jeff Jack had a soda in front of him.

"What was that commotion I heard?" she asked.

"Buxley got into a brawl with two women and Hillbilly dropped the dude that was with them," Jeff Jack replied.

LaRhonda eyed her friend suspiciously. "For real?"

"Yeah," Jeff Jack affirmed. "They went all Jet Li on their butts."

"Where are they at now?" she asked worried. "They weren't arrested, were they?"

"Naw, that guy over there in the Auburn jersey is a cop but he was cool about it."

"What do I have to do? Pull every answer out of you with pliers?" LaRhonda snapped. "Where are they?"

Jeff Jack grinned widely. "Brittany proposed after the fight. She and Hillbilly went somewhere to talk."

"You're kidding."

Jeff Jack held up two fingers. "Scout's honor."

"Oh Lord, I hope he lets her down gently," LaRhonda said forlornly.

"He won't," Jeff Jack said confidently.

"C'mon, Elon's a good guy," she countered. "He won't be cruel."

"No, he won't," Jeff Jack agreed. "But he won't let her down. He'll accept."

LaRhonda snorted. "They haven't even been on a date yet."

"Another five says that they'll be telling everyone that they're engaged tomorrow," Jeff Jack replied.

"You're on," she said then laughed. "Well, if they do get married, at least Buxley won't have to strain herself to remember her new name."

Seven days later, Kevin Thompson was running on a treadmill in the _Nutmeggers _training facility. His body was on autopilot, faultlessly repeating the rhythm churning out stride after stride. Sweat poured from him. His mind drifted, thinking mainly about the Jets who they would play next Sunday but occasionally savoring a moment from the win yesterday over the Buccaneers. The loss to Seattle still rankled. The damn defense couldn't stop eleven grannies, he savagely thought. How can you score fifty-four points and lose?

"Have you got a moment, Mr. Thompson?"

Kevin glanced over. It was one of the GM's assistants standing with some skinny older man in a postal uniform holding a clipboard. What was her name? Janet? Jill? It did not matter.

"Sure, what is it?" he asked, reducing the treadmill 's speed to the cool down pace.

"Registered letter for you, Mr. Thompson," the postman said extending the clipboard. "It was sent in care of the team. Just sign there at the bottom."

Kevin quickly signed his name to the form.

"I was wondering if I could get your autograph, too," the postman asked hopefully.

Kevin flashed him a huge smile. "Sure," he said. "What do you want signed?"

The intern handed him an eight by ten photograph and a sharpie. It was the standard publicity still showing Kevin in a passing stance.

"To Ron," the postman supplied.

Kevin loved signing autographs; every one of them was satisfying. Each one was vindication.

The mail carrier took the extended photograph as if it were fragile and precious. "To Ron who always runs a good route," he read aloud. "Hey, that's clever. Thanks, Mr. Thompson."

"You're welcome, Ron," Kevin said. "And just call me Kevin."

Ron started to leave when the intern stopped him. "The letter."

"Oh, yeah," Ron chuckled pulling an envelope from his bag. "Almost forgot."

There was very thin and it had no return address written anywhere on it. Curious, Kevin shut the treadmill off and took a seat on a weight bench.

"The first thing he pulled from it was a newspaper clipping from the _Lawndale Sun-Herald_. It was an engagement announcement. Two soldiers in uniform were holding each other smiling for the camera.

"Brittany?" Kevin asked himself before reading the article.

_Taylor-Taylor  
Mr. Steven Taylor of Lawndale and Mrs. Vivian Lark  
of Los Angeles are pleased to announce the  
engagement of their daughter CWO2 Brittany Taylor  
to CWO3 Elon Taylor, the son of Mr. Henry and the late  
Mrs. Pearl Taylor of Laurel Ridge, Kentucky._

_Miss Taylor graduated from Lawndale High School  
in 1999 and attended Great Prairie State University._

_Mister Taylor is a 1993 graduate of Mossy Creek Christian  
Academy in and recently graduated from Alabama  
International University with a degree in Electrical  
Engineering._

_Both Mr. and Miss Taylor are U. S. Army helicopter  
pilots assigned to the Army Aviation Center, at Fort  
Rucker, Alabama. Among Miss Taylor's awards is the  
Soldier's Medal and Commendation Medal both earned  
while taking part in 'Operation Iraqi Freedom'. Mister  
Taylor has served in Bosnia, Iraq, and Afghanistan  
where during 'Operation Enduring Freedom' he earned  
the Silver Star, Distinguished Flying Cross, and the  
Purple Heart._

_The wedding is scheduled for Novemeber in the Main  
Chapel at Fort Rucker._

Kevin looked back in the envelope. A single folded sheet of robin egg blue colored stationary rested inside. As soon as he unfolded it, Kevin recognized the flowing, elegant penmanship of Brittany Taylor.

_Dear Kevvie,  
My dreams are coming true for me and I am very  
happy. Please don't let bitterness ruin your happiness at  
achieving your dream. I wish you only the best.  
With Love,  
B_

Kevin 's brow furrowed. He sat on the bench and stared at the light blue piece of paper for a very long time.


End file.
